Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16
WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 17
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 18
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 19
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 20
FRIENDSHIP
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Text copyright © 2010 by Melissa Thomson
Pictures copyright © 2010 by Frank Morrison
All rights reserved
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Thomson, Melissa, date.
Keena Ford and the secret journal mix-up /
by Melissa Thomson ; pictures by Frank Morrison.
p. cm.
Summary: When she accidentally leaves her journal in Tiffany’s apartment,
Keena is afraid that Tiffany will reveal all of her secrets.
eISBN : 978-1-101-44338-5
[1. Diaries—Fiction. 2. Secrets—Fiction. 3. Schools—Fiction. 4. Friendship—Fiction.
5. African Americans—Fiction.] I. Morrison, Frank, date, ill. II. Title.
PZ7.T37195 Kh 2010
[Fic]—dc22
2009044395
http://us.penguingroup.com
For Linda de Castrique and Millie Thomson
—M.T.
To my daughter Nia
—F.M.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 16
9:30 A.M.
I’m Keena Ford, and this is my notebook. This notebook belongs to ME ONLY. Right now it is writing time in my classroom, and most days during writing time I write in a beautiful journal. On the cover of my journal there are clouds and rainbows and a picture of President George Washington. But I don’t have my journal today, so I am just writing in this plain old notebook.
The reason I don’t have my journal is because a very mean person has it and won’t give it back. And that person read my journal. And that person is Tiffany Harris, the meanest muffinhead in the whole second grade. Tiffany has been mean for a long time, but the problem of her taking my journal didn’t happen until yesterday afternoon.
The problem happened right after I came home from school. I always walk home with Eric and Lamont. Eric is my very best friend, even though we are not in the same class. He is in the second-grade class that is all boys, and I am in the second-grade class that is all girls. And Lamont is a fifth grader. Back when Lamont was a kid, my older brother Brian would make sure he got home safely, so now Lamont has to make sure Eric and I get home safely. Sometimes Lamont used to just walk me to the door of my apartment, but now he ALWAYS has to wait for my mom to open the door before he can leave. The reason why Lamont has to wait is because one time when he left me at the door, I decided to visit my neighbor Mrs. Carlito before going into my apartment. Mrs. Carlito lives by herself, so I wanted to make sure she was not lonely. Also she has a LOT of cookies for someone who lives by herself. When I grow up and live by myself I will have lots of cookies and also some carrots because they help you see at night. Anyway, Mom got pretty mad at me for going to Mrs. Carlito’s instead of coming home, so now Lamont has to knock on the door and wait until Mom opens it before he can leave.
Yesterday Lamont had only knocked on the door one time when it flew right open and Mom was already standing there. She had her coat and scarf on.
“Is the heat broken?” I asked.
“No, I am going out,” Mom answered. She looked really mad, but I knew she couldn’t be mad at me, because I waited with Lamont like I was supposed to. Unless she was mad at me for something I did wrong then forgot about.
“Who are you mad at?” Lamont asked her.
“I’m not mad. Thank you for walking with Keena, Lamont,” she said to Lamont in a way that meant Lamont should probably go home now. He ran down the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I asked Mom.
“I’m going to Brian’s school,” she answered. “And you are going to Tiffany’s.” She took my hand and started pulling me toward the stairs.
“Oh no I’m not,” I said, pulling back. “I will go to Eric’s.”
“Eric is going to a basketball game with his dad,” Mom reminded me.
“Then I will go to Mrs. Carlito’s,” I explained to Mom.
“Mrs. Carlito is out,” Mom said, tugging me toward the stairs again.
“Then I can sit in the car at the middle school,” I told her. “I will sit very quietly. I promise.”
Mom stared at me without saying anything. I got the feeling that maybe she could be mad at whoever she was mad at already AND be mad at me at the same time. So I stopped tugging and started walking down the stairs with Mom. “Believe me, Keena,” Mom said, “I don’t like leaving you at the Harrises any more than you like it.”
Before Mom knocked on Tiffany’s door, she whispered, “Keena, please do not give Sylvia Harris a single reason to say something bad about your behavior. If I get a good report from her, you will be able to watch thirty extra minutes of TV.”
“How many shows is that?” I whispered back.
“It’s one show,” Mom said.
“Hmmm,” I said.
“Keena Ford.” Mom bent her eyebrows together so that they were almost touching in the middle of her forehead. “Do I look like I want to make a deal with you? Please just behave yourself. It is the right thing to do, and I will be very proud of you. Be a big girl.”
“I will be very good, Mommy. I promise,” I said. Mom gave me a squeeze and knocked on the door.
Tiffany’s mom opened the door. Tiffany was standing right behind her. Right away I could smell roses, because it always smells like roses in Tiffany’s apartment. Tiffany’s mom burns smelly candles all the time that are supposed to smell good but really they just make you sneeze and wish you could go outside.
“Thanks again, Sylvia,” Mom told Mrs. Harris.
“It’s no problem, Nikki,” Tiffany’s mom said. “I just feel awful for you. I hope Brian can fix his behavior before it’s too late.” She shook her head sadly.
I looked at Mom. I felt worried. I didn’t know what Tiffany’s mom meant, but she made it sound like something bad was going to happen to Brian.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s as bad as all that,” Mom said to Mrs. Harris. “Brian just needs to learn to stop being a clown
at school.”
“Oh, I am sure you are right,” Mrs. Harris said. She kind of laughed. “Don’t mind me. I was just watching this television program about this nice family whose son was in jail. It was the saddest thing. And he first started getting into trouble in middle school. But I’m sure that won’t happen with Brian.”
“Mmm-hmmm, well, I should be home by five, Sylvia,” Mom said. She said it without really opening her mouth, like her top and bottom teeth were stuck together.
“Keena is going to be here for almost two HOURS?” Tiffany said. She did not sound like she was very excited about having me stay at her house.
“Believe me, my mom doesn’t like leaving me here any more than you like it,” I told Tiffany. “Right, Mom?” I looked at Mom. She made a laugh sound that also sounded like a coughing sound. Then her face changed colors a little bit.
“Er, I am just sorry to ask for a last-minute favor,” Mom said to Mrs. Harris. “So thank you. See you at five,” she added, then she kissed me on the top of my head and left me standing there with Mrs. Harris.
“Well, come on in, Keena,” Mrs. Harris said. “You poor dear.”
At first I had no idea why Mrs. Harris called me “poor dear,” but then I decided that she probably did not think it was much fun playing with Tiffany either.
“Ah-choo! Ah-choo! Ah-choo!” I said.
“Oh dear, you have a cold?” Mrs. Harris looked at me like I was poisonous, or a bomb. “Your mom didn’t tell me you were sick.”
“I’m not sick,” I told her. “I think I’m just allergic to your smelly candles.”
Mrs. Harris frowned at me. Then she said, “You girls can go to Tiffany’s room. Please do your homework. Then Tiffany must do her workbook pages. Then you can play.”
“Ah-choo!” I said again.
Tiffany and I started walking to her room. “Your brother MUST have been very bad if your mom had to go to a meeting at the school,” Tiffany said like she knows everything. Tiffany always talks like she knows everything. “I thought you were the only bad kid in your family.”
I opened my mouth to call Tiffany a mean name, but then I remembered that I had promised to be very good. So I just said “Mmm-hmm” with my mouth closed, the same way Mom had said it to Mrs. Harris.
Then I didn’t talk to Tiffany the whole time we did our homework. I decided that I was not going to say one more word to Tiffany until my mom came back to get me.
My teacher Ms. Campbell just said that writing time is over, so I will have to wait until after school to write the rest of the story of how Tiffany stole my journal because she is mean.
3:30 P.M.
Now it is after school. Here is the rest of what happened at Tiffany’s: I finished with my homework and wrote in my journal while I waited for Tiffany to finish her homework and her workbook pages, whatever those are. I started writing that I figured out who Mom was mad at. She was mad at Brian. I did not know why Brian was in so much trouble for being a clown at school. Clowns are funny. I wrote that I didn’t like the way Mrs. Harris talked about Brian maybe going to jail when he grew up. It was mean of her to say that, and I have never heard of anyone having to go to jail for being a clown. You might have to go to the circus if you are a clown, but I don’t think you have to go to jail. So I wrote that Mrs. Harris doesn’t know anything. And then I wrote something very bad. I wrote that Mrs. Harris should just shut up.
A few minutes after I started writing in my journal, Tiffany took her homework paper and left the room. When she came back, her paper had red marks all over it with lots of red writing at the bottom.
“We can’t do our homework in pen!” I blurted out. I knew that I had decided not to talk to Tiffany, but this was too important.
Tiffany let a lot of air out of her lungs like grown-ups do when little kids don’t understand something. “I’m not turning this paper in,” she said like she knows everything. “My mom helped me make the writing better, and now I am going to write it over.”
“What is the writing at the bottom?” I asked. I leaned over Tiffany’s paper to look at the words in red.
Tiffany snatched the paper away from me. “That’s some stuff my mom wants me to add,” she said. “So I will write that stuff after I write the rest of it again.”
I could not believe what she was saying. “That’s COPYING,” I said with lots of surprise. “Copying is against the law.”
“It’s not copying when a mom writes it,” Tiffany said. “My mother told me so.”
“Are you sure?” I asked her. It still seemed like copying to me.
“YES I’m sure,” Tiffany said. “Now you need to be quiet so I can do my work. Or I’m going to tell my mom you think she is breaking the law.”
“I did not say that!” I told her. Then I stuck my tongue out at the back of Tiffany’s head when she turned around to do her stupid copying.
I took a good look around Tiffany’s room. I had not been there since I was in first grade. It still looks almost exactly the same! It is mostly pink and white. And Tiffany always has her teapot and cups all set up.
As I was looking around Tiffany’s room, I heard the doorbell, and then I heard Mom’s voice. I ran into the hallway to see her. “Thanks again, Sylvia,” Mom was saying. Then she saw me. “Oh, THERE you are, Keena,” she said. “Get your things, please. And do it quickly.”
Mom didn’t need to tell me to get my things quickly because I was already running back into Tiffany’s room. I grabbed my books off Tiffany’s bed and shoved them in my backpack.
When we got back to our apartment, we had a very quiet dinner. I asked Brian about his clown tricks, but before he could answer, Mom said, “I have heard enough about Brian’s clowning for today,” and told me to eat my peas.
I ate eleven peas. It took a few minutes. I LOVE to eat peas. I love to eat peas one at a time rather than in a big crowded mouthful. While I was eating my peas, I had an idea for how I could help Brian learn to behave better. “Do you know what a fable is?” I asked him.
“Yes, I know what a fable is,” Brian said. His mouth was very full. Brian always puts every single one of his peas in his mouth at once.
“A fable is a story that teaches a lesson,” I told him. “In a fable, the lesson is called a moral. Many fables have talking animals instead of people.” I know everything about fables because we talked about them yesterday AND today in school.
“You’re a talking animal,” Brian said in a mean voice. Then Mom made him say sorry.
“Do you know the fable of the city mouse and the country mouse?” I asked Brian.
“Yes,” he said.
I told him the fable again anyway in case he couldn’t remember all the important parts. It goes like this: Once upon a time there were these two mice. One mouse lived in the city and the other mouse lived out in the country in a field or something. I think the mice were cousins. Anyway, the city mouse went to visit the country mouse, and he thought the country mouse lived a very boring life and ate boring food. So the city mouse said, “Let’s go to the city and eat fancy food.” And the country mouse said okay. But when they were eating fancy food at the city mouse’s apartment, these big dogs came in and chased the mice away. Then the country mouse said, “I am going back to the country, because I would rather eat boring food in a safe place than eat fancy food in a dangerous place.” The moral of the story is you should try to be safe even if it seems boring.
I didn’t tell the moral to Brian because I wanted to see if he could guess it. “Do you know what the moral is?” I asked him. I smiled at him like my teacher Ms. Campbell smiles at us when she really, really hopes we know the right answer to a question.
“I guess the moral is that I need to go away from this city,” Brian said. He was not even smiling one bit. He looked very unhappy. “It means I should move to the country. I should just move to Maryland with Dad. That’s what I want to do anyway.”
I felt very shocked when Brian said that. “That’s not the moral,” I
told him. I thought he would have been good at guessing the right moral. What he said was not the moral at all. What he said was terrible. I did not want him to move to Maryland.
“Brian, I need to speak to you in your room,” Mom said. Then she said, “Keena, baby, I’ll be right back.” Mom and Brian walked out of the kitchen. I put a pea on my spoon, but I didn’t want to eat it at all. I just set it down on Brian’s plate, then I pushed my chair away from the table. I went to my room to write in my journal.
When I got to my room, I looked in my backpack to get my journal. I didn’t see it. I tried to remember if I had put it somewhere else when I got home from Tiffany’s. I looked beside my bed, under my bed, in my art box, and on my bookshelf. I thought maybe it had gotten squashed down to the bottom of my bag, so I pulled out all my other books. Then I stuck my head all the way into my backpack to make sure it was totally empty. It was! I went into the bathroom to see if my journal was in the bathtub again. It happened once before, and that is a very long story. Anyway, my journal was not in the bathtub. Right then I knew for sure that my journal was missing!
I ran back into the kitchen. Mom was in there. She was washing dishes and talking on the telephone. I don’t think she heard me come into the kitchen because she was listening to the phone and the water was whooshing in the sink. I heard her say something about traveling, so I thought she was on the phone with my grandma Haypo. Grandma Haypo lives in Richmond, Virginia, and we travel a long way in the car to see her sometimes. After a few more minutes, though, I realized she was on the phone with Dad because she said, “Thank you, Curtis.” Then she turned around and reached for my dirty plate on the table. She looked toward the door and saw me, and she looked very serious in her face. “Let me call you back in just a minute, Curtis,” she said.
Keena Ford and the Secret Journal Mix-Up Page 1